"Again? Really?" You exclaim in angst. "I get it that you lost the cup, but why do you keep reliving the pain again." Your voice broke at that last part. You couldn't stand to see your boyfriend of a year and a half, sitting in his recliner rewatching Game Seven of the Stanley Cup Finals, where they had lost the cup to the Capitals.
He ignored you as he turned the game up louder. That was the final straw for you. Quickly storming back to your bedroom in your shared apartment you packed most of your stuff into a large suitcase and sat down at your desk to write him an apology.
My dearest Sidney,
I'm sorry. I can't take watching you destroy yourself over something that isn't your fault. I can't do this anymore. I'll be heading back home to Nashville if you want to come find me. If not, I understand and I wish you the best so your career and life.
All my love,
(Y/N)
You looked around your bedroom. He wasn't going to come up here until he decided to go to bed, if he even did. You did what any smart woman would do. You grabbed a framed picture of you and him and put the note on top of it, and left it by the beer in the kitchen, where he would eventually venture. You walked out of the door and to your car. You slammed trunk and the drivers seat, hoping he'd come running. Of course he didn't and you left, not wanting to be around him anymore.
Half way home to Nashville, you completely lost it. You had done it. You had walked out on the love of your life and didn't know it would hurt like this. Trying to drown out the thoughts, you crank up your favorite pop station. It was request night.
"Jammin 94.5 what can I get you tonight?" The radio host asked the caller.
"All of Me, John Legend." A familiar voice answered the host.
"Any particular reason?"
"The love of my life just walked out on me. This is our song and this is our favorite station. I'm hoping she's listening. And if you are, (Y/N) come home please. I can't live without you. Loosing the cup is less important than loosing you. I love you forever." The tears you had been holding back poured out of your eyes. You wanted so desperately to change the channel and keep driving home, but you found yourself turning around to be back into his arms. You reached for your phone and called him, knowing it'd be busy because he was still talking to the radio. you left one voicemail.
"Sid, I'm on my way home."
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A/N: any better? Any requests? Some more coming tonight!
